


A Contrast

by stevieraebarnes



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: BatFamShipValentinesWeekendChallenge, Brief Mention of Violence, Developing Relationship, Language, M/M, Some Humor, Teenage Hostage, The X-Files References, Valentine's Day, jaydick_flashfic: valentine's crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevieraebarnes/pseuds/stevieraebarnes
Summary: In which Dick gets suckered into working a case on Valentine’s Day with Jason, and Red Hood and Nightwing get psychoanalyzed by a kid.





	A Contrast

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts "Valentine's Crime" and "Valentine's Day"

_"We are so made, that we can only derive intense enjoyment from a contrast and only very little from a state of things." -- Sigmund_ _Freud_

_“But more importantly [this kid] sucks. And I want to destroy him.” -- Leslie Knope_

 

Dick finds Jason standing just before the edge of a rooftop. He cradles his trademark red helmet against his side as he watches the front entrance of a squat, empty brick building across the street. There’s a crooked “For Lease” sign in the front window, barely visible with its sun-faded letters and the layer of brown dirt evenly distributed across the glass.

“You made it,” Jason greets as Dick steps next to him. “I almost gave up on you.”

Dick gives a groan. “The checkout lines were insanely long. Everyone’s getting last-minute gifts. I think I might start taking hostages if I see anymore red and pink packages covered in curlycue fonts.”

Jason spies the duffle bag slung across Dick’s broad shoulders. It’s zipped shut, but filled to capacity with random objects if the bizarrely shaped outlines pressed against the canvas material are any indication.

“Oh,” is all he responds.

Dick gives him a confused look, then spots a lock box on the other side of Jason, sheltered by the rooftop ledge. He moves around Jason’s bulk and punches in a code to open it. Over the years, the Bats have taken to installing rooftop storage boxes for security purposes. Security purposes mostly means stored food for when the Bats get hungry mid-patrol and then accusing each other of eating their candy when they find the empty wrappers; clues left on purpose. He drops his duffle into the bolted steel trap then pulls out an extra Nightwing domino, long-sleeved armored shirt, and gauntlets.

“You gotta stop sending me location texts out of the blue.” Dick shrugs out of his jacket and pulls the black and blue armor over his t-shirt. “I don’t know why you think I can just drop everything to help you on a case.”

Jason takes a pointed look at the extra vigilante pieces Dick has pulled out of a random lock box that suggests otherwise, but looks back at Dick pulling on his gauntlets and instead says, “I thought you liked working these cases.”

Dick meets Jason’s gaze. He sees the earnest pettiness he’s trying to mask on his face and Dick switches his focus to the building Jay’s been spying on. He shoves his jacket into the lock box with his duffle and moves back to stand next to him.

“So what’ve we got here?”

“A stakeout.”

“A stakeout? Today?” Dick opens a bottle of Spirit Gum and briefly recoils from the smell before brushing the liquid along the edge of his mask with a practiced hand.

“Do you want to hear why?”

“Look Jay, I’ve got stuff to do.”

“I mean, if you’re not interested…”

Dick affixes his mask over his eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Jason cocks his head, his uncertainty of Dick’s tone, his words on display.

“I guess I thought you’d be more interested.”

“Don’t you have plans or something, Jay?”

“What for?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

“Plans for what? I’ve invited you to this. These are my plans.”

“Jason, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Jason stands there in silence, reading Dick’s face despite the mask in place.

“Oh,” he says again. Then, “Sorry. I’m probably interrupting stuff for you. You got something lined up for tonight?”

“I’m just playing Cupid. I’ve got chocolates to give out to Tim, Steph, Duke, and Cass. I picked up a fancy, flowery bath soak thing for Babs. I managed to find a turkey plushie for Damian. And I made it a shirt.”

“You made it a shirt?”

“Well, I took a shirt from a nearby teddy bear, turned it inside out and wrote with a sharpie on it. It says, ‘I love you Jerry much.’”

Jason blinks at Dick.

“Jerry is Damian’s turkey,” Dick explains.

“I know. I was there for that Thanksgiving.”

“Right.”

Jason tilts his head at a thought. “You don’t find Valentine’s Day to be a little...trite?”

“You expect me to pass up a socially accepted opportunity to bask in candy and to share with those I care for?”

Jason just shrugs.

“So,” Dick says.”The decrepit building. Stakeout.”

Jason crosses his arms against his chest and turns his attention to across the street.

“It was over a hundred years ago,” Jason begins. “Gotham wasn’t immune to the war and pestilence of the time, and even the most prominent of families found themselves in dire straits. In the midst of all this bleakness though, two people -- in this building -- found a way to be together forever.” Jason pauses to glance at Dick, then continues on. “They made a Lover’s Pact, and long ago, on this day, they entered this building together with intent on spending all of eternity side by side. I guess it makes sense today is Valentine's Day.”

“They killed themselves?”

“Murder-suicide. In the basement. And every year, people come from all over to spend the night. By the next morning, they either end up leaving as a happy couple, stronger in their love than ever, or they don’t leave at all...except by body bag.”

“So, what? It’s cursed or something? I mean, it is next to a pawn shop.” Dick smiles at the scenario before him, playing along.

“You ready to find out?”

Dick takes his eyes off the abandoned property to find Jason looking at him intently. A laugh bursts out of him.

“It’s a good story, Jay, but haunted houses aren’t exactly within my realm of expertise. Except for that one time.”

“Too bad, Dickie. We could’ve discovered some things about us.”

Dick lets out a flustered noise and feels his skin warm considerably. Jason’s presence is often a comfort by Dick’s side; a known, loyal variable of impressive skill despite his reputation. But sometimes, Jason and his motives are an enigma, and Dick doesn’t know what to make of Jason’s nonchalant statement. Is he just trying to get a rise out of him? Or, _is he trying to get a rise out of him?_

Dick stamps down on any rising and throws the Spirit Gum in the lock box. He squats down to secure it shut, then rights himself to give his attention back to Jason. “You gonna go in there and search for ghosts?” he says.

Jason’s face shifts and he becomes agitated. “Hell no!” bursts from him instead. “I’ve got a fucking heathen I need to catch. He’s being an asshole and leaving Red Hood shit all over my territory the last four days. I’ve tracked him to this building. I think it’s where he keeps his supplies.”

Dick’s skin loses the flushed warmth immediately and in his gut he feels -- strangely, illogically -- a sense of loss. “What?” he says.

“I made the story up.”

“You. Jackass. I almost believed you!”

“Aww, only an almost? Damn, I need to get better. Though, I had to make it up on the spot so I'd appreciate some slack.”

Dick continues to stare at Jason, watching the mirth in Jason’s eyes slowly wan as he realizes Dick isn’t in on the joke. Dick wants to hit him. Or something.

Both of them see a flit of movement from their periphery and they give their full attention back to the building.

“He’s there,” Jason says, putting on his helmet. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Jason leads Dick to a side entrance he found on a schematic he lifted from Gotham’s City Hall.

The door’s security includes a single rusted padlock that’s already been sheared through by a rotary tool’s circular saw.

Dick turns around to watch their backs while Jason works on slowly, quietly pulling the ill-fitting door open. They stand side by side and Dick nudges Jason’s shoulder with his own. He leans close to Jason, head to helmet, whispering: “How long have you been preparing for this exactly?” Dick takes a step back to where Jay can see him and motions to the ruined padlock. Jason narrows his eyes on his own handiwork. He grabs Dick by the crook of his elbow and pulls him back in. It’s a little rough and the momentum brings Dick closer into Jason’s space. “I came by after patrol last night. This little shit’s going down,” Jason whispers back.

He lets go of Dick’s arm and works the door completely open, then looks at Dick expectantly. The inside of the building is pitch black; the Gotham evening street lamps not bright enough to penetrate the single opened door or the grime covered windows.

“I got your back,” Dick says to Jason and motions him ahead.

Jason takes a step over the threshold, then looks behind him to make sure Dick follows. He does.

 

* * *

 

Dick eases the door back into place and the two of them spread out, traipsing silently across the floor. They move deeper within the building, stepping over discarded objects that make neither a business nor a home. Dick counts three uncapped syringes in a corner, plungers fully depressed. He sweeps his eyes over more terrain, his lenses illuminating the scene for him. There’s a gaping hole in the flooring; carpet ripped up and floorboards missing. Dick inspects it at closer range, but finds only concrete eighteen inches below the flooring. He turns his head, searching for Jason to orient himself in this improvised mission. He sees an old satin bra rumpled against the wall trim instead.

He keeps looking and moves over to Jason as soon as he finds him.

“You see some of the stuff in here?” Dick asks quietly. And then, “Are you sure there’s not a ghostly Lover’s Pact going on?”

Jason gives a quiet huff. “We’re just dealing with an asshole, not some criminal mastermind or monster.”

Dick starts to form a retort as Jason places his hands on his hips to defend against whatever Dick is going to say, but both of them stop when they hear a thump. They take a second to share a glance with each other -- all they need to communicate their next step -- then move quickly, quietly, in a familiar pattern like predators stalking their prey. They move down a hallway, staggering their placement throughout the space, always mindful of where they are going, where they have been, and what’s in between. Dick and Jason zero in on the sound coming from the depths of the abandoned retail space, and silently glide into a room like phantoms.

Dick sees a person hunched over a backpack, surrounded by a neatly arranged row of spray paint cans labeled pink and red in fancy writing, a family size package of toilet paper, and a pile dedicated to disguises: a baseball cap, a blonde wig, and an oversized blonde handlebar mustache. Next to these items, carefully placed, is inexplicably an empty plastic water bottle.

The modulated voice of Red Hood calls out.

“Well hello there, Jeffrey.”

The hunched figure’s head turns, and a boy of about seventeen stands up. He raises his hands in submission while Dick sees Jason pull thin, flexible cord from his person.

“What the hell?” Dick says to himself.

 

* * *

 

Dick and Jason loom large in the doorway that barely houses them, while the kid sits tied to a chair in the middle of a long-neglected room. Dick watches the kid -- the kid is watching them back without a peep, but maybe a smirk -- then turns to face Jason.

“What the fuck, Hood?”

Jason turns to the kid and juts out his chin. “I think it’s time to call his parents. I don’t think they know their little squirt is out past bedtime,” he says in a raised voice.

“Seriously, Hood. What. The. Hell.”

“This is the little bastard I mentioned. Finally caught him. I just needed a couple hours dedicated to this punk. Wasn’t hard.”

“He’s a kid.”

“He’ll be eighteen in five months. He’s no kindergartener, N.” Jason leaves Dick’s side to close in on the hostage. “I’ve got you now, Jeffrey. That’s right. I know your name. Where you live. Who you live with. I know all about the C- you’re getting in your World Literature class. That’s embarrassing.”

“Oooh you found my transcript. Scary,” the kid says, shit eating grin on his face. “And now, you’ve broken into someone else’s property and tied a high schooler to a chair. Congratulations.”

“Well, you’ve been engaging in criminal activities. And criminals get restrained.”

“No, see, the tying me up really says more about you than it does about me.”

“It ends today, kid. Today.”

The kid looks at Jason in mock appreciation. “You been working out more than usual? You look good.”

“Thanks. Ends today, though.”

Dick moves closer to the scene. “C’mon, Hood. Let’s just report the activity to the police and move on. There’s evidence here they can charge him with.”

Jeffrey takes an interest in Dick. “Oh, look. You brought Night _wang_ , too.”

“Hey!” Jason says. “Show some respect!”

“So cute, bringing your significant other to tie down kids.”

“He-- what?” Jason starts.

“You make a cute couple,” Jeffrey clarifies, like he’s explaining why food shouldn’t be shoved into electronics to a three year old.

Dick just folds his arms against his chest. “We’re not a couple.”

“Says you,” Jeffrey responds. “But what about him? C’mon, Red Hood. Nightwing’s disputing your relationship. Does that make you a jilted lover as well as a loser?”

Dick ignores the chirping. “Hood, what did he do?”

“Yeah, _Hood_. What’d I do?” The kid challenges him with a smirks.

Jason turns to address Dick.

“He...litters.”

“He litters?”

The kid lets out a laugh.

“He leaves empty plastic water bottles all over the place. _Just_ empty plastic water bottles.” Jason picks up the bottle next to the kid’s supplies. “Like this,” he says. “And he graffitis rude images on private property...and then leaves the empty bottle at the scene. It’s his calling card.”

“Hood,” Dick says, “since when do you care about these types of activities?”

“Since the ugly artwork stars my face is when.”

The kids laughs even harder. “You just called yourself ugly.”

“No. I called your artwork ugly. Jesus.”

“He’s still a kid.”

“I watched him tear the cover off a library book. It was an Austen!”

“I get it,” Dick says, “but we can let the cops know there’s a dumb kid running around the city. This isn’t exactly a priority.”

Jason continues, “He threw a balloon filled with neon pink paint at me while I was taking down a drug pusher. He ruined one of my jackets!”

Jason crosses his arms and stands in a defensive position. “But also this kid is the worst and he deserves my wrath.”

Dick lets out a sigh, then walks toward the kid.

“So. Jeffrey,” Dick starts.

The kid asks his own question. “So, do you have, like, major daddy issues?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, with that outfit, you _must_ have daddy issues, right?” The kid tilts his head to the side, trying to view more of Nightwing. “Your ass is on full display. It’s all anyone can talk about.”

“We’re not here to talk about my ass.”

“Daddy issues then.”

“We’re calling the police. We will let you go home. We _hope_  you change your ways, but we will not be interfering with your life. Unless you start murdering people or something.”

“Or something, huh? You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

“This isn’t about having a good time. You’ve seriously pissed off the Red Hood.” Dick starts inputting a sequence on his left gauntlet, a soft light hitting his face as he activates the display.

“Oh, is that all? Good. I was afraid you were trying to recruit me to your weird sex club.” The kid nods at Jason. “Pretty sure he’d shoot me if I said ‘no’ to the invite.”

“That’s not what we’re doing! And I wouldn’t shoot you!”

“You sure about that? You brought guns to take me down. You’re an overzealous wacko.”

“Okay, now you’re just being rude,” Dick says. “Hood. I’ve notified the police. They’ll be here soon.”

“What?” Jason says in surprise.

“Aww, your girlfriend’s ruining your fun, Hood.”

“Seriously, Jeffrey. Knock it off.”

The kid continues his attentions on Jason. “I mean, why do you do it?” he asks. “Why do you strap on the body armor and hide your ugly face behind an even more hideous red helmet?”

“Hey!” Dick says, voice raised in anger. “It’s iconic!”

The kid ignores him.

“You’re probably convinced you make this city safer.”

“Uh, I _do_ make this city safer.”

“Nope. You’re only chasing juris-mastabatory illusions in which you’re the hero in your own quixotic fairy tale. I bet you think of yourself as a street-hardened, passionate, misunderstood good guy instead of a maladjusted psychopath with a gun fetish.”

Dick lets his face show his disbelief at the situation. “What the fuck, kid?”

“Juris-mastabatory?” Jason simply asks.

“Hey, just because you’re a textbook example of self-righteous narcissism that doesn’t give you the right to act out on it.” The kid looks over to Nightwing. “And you. How’d he even lure you here if it’s not a sex thing?”

“You’re the worst. You know that?”

“No, seriously. Why do you put up with him? Is your self-esteem that low? Is he your new daddy? I mean, someone messed up with you somewhere. You came all the way to Gotham to pick on a kid for him? I hope he treats you right. Because I know all those muscles he’s got are to compensate for his ugly face and tiny--”

There’s a loud bang beyond the room the three of them occupy coming from the front of the building. They listen to the steps of heavy booted feet make their way through. A voice calls out.

“This is Officers Jones and Grant responding to a report of a detained minor. We are moving through the store front towards the back, please announce your presence.”

“We’re here,” Dick calls out.

“Shit,” Jason mutters.

A man and a woman come into view, eyes and flashlights sweeping over the room they find before them. The man shines the light on the kid tied up, sees the face, then looks at Jason.

“Are you kidding me? The kid again? For God’s sake, Red Hood, you’ve taken this too far,” the officer says.

“He’s a menace!” Jason shouts.

“This is child endangerment and abduction. You can’t do this.”

Jason walks to the doorway to meet them out in the hall. “He won’t stop littering and using my image to deface property. Aren’t you guys into stopping this kind of stuff?”

“Red Hood. Seriously. This is such a _pot meet kettle_ conversation.”

“C’mon, Mike! He’s a terror!”

“He really is,” Dick offers, joining the others in the hallway and leaving Jeffrey to himself.

“Nightwing,” the officer says, “I expected better from you.”

“What?” Dick splutters. “Clearly you’ve never met this kid.”

“And clearly, the city of Blüdhaven is starting to affect your moral compass.”

Jason turns to the other officer. “Laurie, you understand, right? This kid’s a punk! He needs probation and community service. And maybe threatened with a trip to Blackgate.”

“Sorry, Mr. Hood,” the officer responds. “Where’s your evidence?”

“Three words,” Jason says. “Plastic. Water. Bottle.”

“I see...Well. That’s not really anything to go on.”

“God, you guys are the worst. The one time I actually extend a hand to the force and it’s the same shit I always get from you.”

“Excuse me?” Mike asks, voice hardened. “Are you talking back to a police officer?”

“Oh, _now_ you’re all lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.”

“That’s it. Red Hood, we’re going to have to ask you to come with us. You too, Nightwing.”

Jason lets out a laugh. “Yeah, the hell you are. Nightwing run!”

The two slip past the cops easily, sprinting away from the dust, the grime, the broken floorboards and syringes and fucking Jeffrey. They quickly make it out and across the street to the initial rooftop they met at earlier, Dick punching in the code for the lock box. He grabs his bag and jacket, slinging the duffle back over his shoulders and holding tight to his jacket.

Dick and Jason take one last look at each other, then break off to flee their separate ways.

 

* * *

 

Jason lays on his bed, side of his face illuminated in the dark by the glow of a laptop. He’s staring at the ceiling in an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt while the film  _Singin’ in the Rain_ serenades the room from tinny speakers when movement captures his attention.

He rolls to hit the spacebar and switches on a lamp next to him. Dick’s length of body is leaning against the doorframe to Jason’s bedroom, hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Dick says. “I hope you don’t mind me breaking in. I couldn’t...I’ve been out of sorts tonight. Thought I’d stop by and…” his voice drifts off, sentence left unfinished.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn’t go on patrol tonight. Thought I’d let things die down a bit before Red Hood shows his face.”

Dick nods at that, still lost in thought.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick starts. “Thanks for texting me about tonight.”

“Oh. No, you don’t have to pretend.”

Dick thinks some more. “Not that I show up just to fill some void in my life.”

“My company doesn’t do anything for you? Oh, wait. That’s my self-righteous narcissism talking.”

Dick laughs and takes a few steps into the bedroom, closer to Jason, hands still behind his back. “No, I mean, I did want to be there. I do want to be out there. With you. No other reasons. I was just confused over why we were meeting. Today.”

Jason cocks his head in an inquisitive manner and bites his lip.

“Well, since you’re here. I got you something.” He reaches out to his nightstand and grabs a small box wrapped in newspaper. He holds it out in front of him.

Dick smiles and steps closer, shins hitting the bed frame, and reveals his hands. “I got you something, too.”

Dick holds a package wrapped in brown paper, approximately the size of a hardback book, much like the ones Jason fills his bookshelf with. He sits down on the bed and they exchange their gifts, grins on their faces. Dick tucks his legs under him, settling in for awhile.

Jason nods at the small box in Dick’s hands and prompts him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dickie.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says back, tearing open the paper. It’s a blue box with a tab that Dick lifts open revealing silver cufflinks in a satin finish. Each link is an elephant, positioned in the box to mirror each other -- trunks raised and touching.

“Oh, wow.” Dick’s voice is quiet, reverent.

“I found those a few months back, actually. Wasn’t sure when to give them to you.”

“Thanks, Jay.” Dick stares at the delicate links, knowing he will wear them to the upcoming gala at the Manor. Then he remembers his own gift still in Jason’s hands, still wrapped.

“Open yours.”

Jason finds the tape along a seam and unravels the careful folding. He smiles at the cover revealed to him: a leatherbound copy of _The Sea Wolf_.

“I didn’t see this one on your bookshelf. Thought some Jack London would spruce it up,” Dick says with a laugh.

Jason opens the novel, feeling the pages as he turns them.

“Thank you,” he says, looking back up at Dick. “Really.”

Dick leans over to nudge him with his shoulder, for contact. He wants to dig in like to shelter one's self from harsh weather. He wants to remain close for longer.

“Can I stay?” Dick asks. “And maybe discover some things about ourselves?”

Jason’s eyes widen a smidge, remembering his own words on the rooftop said in a way to test their comfort zones, and a shy grin starts to emerge on his face. “Stay as long as you like,” he says.

He scoots back on the bed to prop himself against the headboard and Dick moves with him. Jason leans forward to hit the spacebar on his laptop, then rests back again, the movie continuing its singing and dancing. Jason opens the book again, this time from page one. Dick’s attention flits between the film playing and the cufflinks in his hands, fingers gently brushing across the smooth surface. He moves his body closer to Jay’s and feels the soft warmth of him by his side. It's so different from the usual leather, the steel plating, and the carbon nanofibers he’s used to Jason wrapping himself in. 

Dick leans into this uncharted softness.

Jason leans in, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the JayDick flashfic prompt “Valentine’s Crimes” and the Batfam Valentine's Weekend Challenge Day 3: Valentine's Day. Thank you to the mods of both for putting this together! For the prompts, I drew heavy influence from two network TV episodes: “Greg Pikitis” from Parks & Rec, and “The Ghosts Who Stole Christmas” from The X-Files. Both are great episodes in their own continuity, but I don’t rec the P&R episode anymore due to a certain guest star. I mostly just wanted a model for the jerk kid and to keep it Dick- and Jason-centric. But the X-Files episode is a classic and I heartily recommend that one!
> 
> Special shoutout to Volavi and Vanna for their helpful, calming voices of reason when I realized this doc was still titled “Ugh I Don’t Know.” This work is now not named that thanks to you both :)
> 
> Unbeta'd and, like the challenge name, written in a flash. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> My [tumblr](https://stevieraebarnes.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [a contrast (early bird remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795909) by [crookedspoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon)




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